


Agape

by satincolt



Series: Trans Skaters [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Brief/mild dysphoria, Dysphoria, Fluff, No gender angst, Other, Trans Character, Trans Yuuri, Viktor with a K, nonbinary Viktor, period fluff, trans Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satincolt/pseuds/satincolt
Summary: Viktor is caught off guard when he gets his first period in almost fifteen years.  Good thing his very understanding fiancé Yuuri is there to help him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Trans Skaters series in which all your faves are trans, according to my headcanons. Yuuri is X-gender, Viktor is "F-to-nothing" (agender), and Yuri P. is a FTM (trans boy; even though he's not in this story). All the other fics in this series will use these same headcanons. Enjoy this fluff!

Viktor goes to bed with a strange, nauseating ache low in his back and shrugs it off as bad posture, or sitting too much.  When he wakes up at four in the morning in the most intense pain he’s felt in years, he knows it can’t be bad posture.  He doesn’t know what it is.  Deep, hot pain radiates through his abdomen and up his spine like someone slowly disemboweling him.  A thin whine escapes his throat; on the other side of the bed, Yuuri stirs but doesn’t wake.

 

Clutching at his belly, curling into the fetal position as if that will protect him from the pain, Viktor prays it will fade soon.  With every passing minute, though, the pain grips him tighter and digs its claws in deeper.  His legs kick of their own accord, trying in vain to throw off the attacker gutting him, the pain slowly killing him.  Blindly, Viktor thrashes the sheets off of himself, overheating, and chills instantly to the point of shivers once the sweat-dampened sheet is clear of his feverish body.

 

A high groan rips itself from his chest as he flips over and curls into his other side, futilely trying to find relief.  Yuuri rouses.

 

“Viktor?” he grumbles.  Viktor can’t open his eyes, much less get a grip long enough to form a coherent thought.  Now that Yuuri’s awake, though, every second of pain vocalizes itself against his will.  Every breath becomes a whine, crescendoing into a near-scream with each pulse of pain.

 

“Viktor!”  Yuuri scrambles, and though his agonizing haze, Viktor hears the click the bedside light.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“ _I’m dying,_ ” Viktor forces out through gritted teeth, and he doesn’t think it’s an exaggeration at all.

 

“In English, Viktor, I don’t know those words yet,” Yuuri says, placing a careful hand on Viktor’s shoulder.  Viktor whines—he’s too sensitive, it’s too much.

 

“Help me,” he cries; nausea drags his stomach up into his throat.  “‘Mgonnathrowup,” he blurts.  Yuuri jumps out of bed and manages Viktor into the bathroom with firm hands, apologies, and cajoling.  Yuuri holds his bangs out of his face as Viktor hunches over the toilet, spitting up bile.  As he vomits up his empty stomach, something hot and wet runs down his inner thigh, and Yuuri gasps almost inaudibly.

 

“You’re on your period,” Yuuri says, like it’s an epiphany.  It almost is.  The shock barely registers with Viktor through his pain, but some part of him knew, and he knows he should have known.  Viktor opens his eyes finally, and sure enough there’s a drop of blood blazing a crimson path down the pale, pale skin of his inner thigh.   _Oh._

 

“I have painkillers.”  Yuuri rummages through the medicine cabinet and emerges with a bottle of ibuprofen in his hand.  “Here, take three of these.  It’s more than you’re supposed to, but you need it…”

 

Yuuri tips three pills into his palm and offers them to Viktor, who weakly raises a hand, but can’t even close his fingers around the meds.  Out of Viktor’s sight, Yuuri’s face twists into a concerned frown.  He fills his tooth-brushing mug with water and gently lowers Viktor to the floor, leaning him back against the wall.

 

“Here,” he holds out the pills again.  Viktor makes another unsuccessful pass at them.  Yuuri’s frown deepens.  “I’ll put them in your mouth,” he says.  Viktor just opens his mouth, his head lolling against the wall.  Then, Yuuri tilts the mug against Viktor’s lips and he swallows the ibuprofen.

 

“Do you have briefs?” Yuuri asks, glancing at the rapidly growing bloodstain on Viktor’s white boxers.  Viktor nods.  After hunting for a black pair and settling for the oldest and least-likely-to-be-missed pair he could find, Yuuri retrieves the briefs.  “Can you do this part?” he asks, holding the briefs and a pad nicked from Mari’s supply.  Viktor’s head rolls and he looks blearily at the proffered items, then shakes his head.  Yuuri sighs.  

 

He never imagined getting quite so intimate with his fiancé.

 

“You’re going to have to help me some, okay?”  Yuuri places the pad inside the briefs, then wrangles Viktor out of his ruined boxers and into the fresh underwear, self-consciously narrating his actions in Japanese so that, A) Viktor can’t understand him, and B) there’s some sort of sound in the bathroom other than the deafening silence permeated only by Viktor’s whimpers of pain.

 

“Viktor, пожалуйста…” Yuuri pleads gently as he wraps his arms around his fiancé’s torso to lift him off the floor.  Viktor gathers his feet beneath him and stands shakily, leaning on Yuuri with a hand pressed against the wall.

 

“Прости,” he mumbles apologetically, and Yuuri gives him a small smile.  As soon as Viktor gets to the bed, he goes limp and sighs, features relaxing from the pained frown he’d been wearing.  The medication has kicked in.  Viktor’s out of the woods now.  Yuuri tucks him in and gets back in bed, but doesn’t fall asleep.  On the other side of the bed, Viktor ‘s breathing has become hard and fast and he’s curled in on himself again.  Yuuri rolls onto his side to rub Viktor’s back gently, knowing there’s nothing more he can do until the painkillers fully suppress the cramps.

 

Somewhere around six, Viktor passes out.  Yuuri falls asleep soon after, protectively spooning his fiancé.

  
  


Viktor wakes the next morning feeling wrung out and run over by a car.  All his muscles are sore, his stomach hurts, he feels caked in inches of filth, his mouth is parched.  He fumbles for his phone to check the time and nearly falls out of bed when he sees it’s one in the afternoon.

 

A vague recollection of last night comes to him like a nightmarish fever dream.   _Had that really happened?_

 

“Yuuri,” he calls weakly, surprised by the scratchiness in his voice.  “Yuuri,” he calls again, stronger.  Footsteps come down the hall a moment later, and Yuuri enters the room with a mug in hand.

 

“Viktor?”  He hands the mug over; Vikor inhales the clean scent of hot green tea with honey and gratefully wraps his hands around its warmth.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“Mm—” Viktor sips the tea.  “Better now.  Thank you.”

 

Yuuri sits on the edge of the bed next to Viktor, quietly watching him drink his tea.  “That was—this is the first, uh,” Viktor gestures nebulously, searching for the English word.

 

“Period?” Yuuri supplies, and Viktor snaps his fingers.

 

“Period, yes.  This is the first period I’ve had since I was fourteen.  I didn’t know I could still get one.”

 

“Since you were fourteen?” Yuuri repeats, frowning.  “That’s not good.”

 

Viktor waves a hand, finishing his tea.  “When I started skating, I started with ballet with Lilia Baranovskaya.  She and Yakov were still married.  I told them I wasn’t a girl after I moved in with them—my family rejected me; Yakov and Lilia took me in.  You can’t get, uh, hormones?  Yes, hormones—you can’t get those in Russia.  Not easily.  I’ve never had them.”

 

Yuuri nods, not interrupting as he takes Viktor’s mug back.

 

“Lilia warned me that my period would stop if I trained too hard and lost too much fat, but I told her that was exactly what I would do.  She was quite frustrated,” he chuckles.  “But she had many students who had done the same thing—she herself had done it.  Lilia gave me vitamins so that my bones wouldn’t be so fragile.”

 

“So why did it start?  Mine never stopped until I had hormones in America,” Yuuri asks, running a finger absently around the lip of the mug.

 

“I’ve gained weight.  I’m not skating like I have been the past fourteen years, not exercising as much.  If I go back to skating, it will stop again.”  Viktor misses the stricken look that darts across Yuuri’s face.  “I would have to lose this weight, too.  I have hips.”

 

Viktor crawls stiffly out of bed, gives his back a quick stretch, and crosses the room to the full-length mirror.  Sure enough, there’s a slight but definite curve to his hips that goes beyond masculine.  He purses his lips as Yuuri stands and comes up behind him, turning this way and that to look at his body from different angles.  He reaches up and cups his breasts with a furrowed brow.

 

“The hips are alright.  These… aren’t,” he mutters.  “They need to go back to being small.”

 

“They swell on your period,” Yuuri supplies quietly.  Viktor looks somewhat relieved, drops his hands back to his sides.

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor turns to face him, “do you still like me even when I look like this?”

 

Yuuri flounders briefly, caught unawares by the sudden question.  “Yes—of course.  I do.  Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Aren’t you gay?  I look like a woman.”  Viktor’s jaw is tight, but not from anger.  Yuuri cautiously puts his hands on Viktor’s shoulders, trying to reassure him.

 

“I’m not just gay.  I like… anyone, everyone.  Especially people like us.  I like you the most, no matter what you look like.”  He puts one hand on Viktor’s cheek, and Viktor leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.  A small smile graces his face.

 

“Спасибо,” he says, covering Yuuri’s hand with his own before turning to kiss his palm.  Yuuri smiles, his heart lifting.

 

“Do you want breakfast?”

 

Viktor nods eagerly, retrieving a sweatshirt and sweatpants.  Yuuri kisses him on the cheek.

 

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> пожалуйста - please  
> Прости - Sorry  
> Спасибо - Thank you
> 
> Please know that nasty, rude, and hostile comments will be deleted. I do not stand for that type of negativity and bigotry, especially on these fics which are just positive entertainment and representation for trans fans of Yuri on Ice.
> 
> Talk to me about your trans headcanons!   
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/irismusicia)  
>  [Tumblr](http://irismusicia.tumblr.com/)


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